First date with MM: sake bar -- he's a half-hour late, couldn't find it due to obscure Japanese signs. He takes the hot towel offered by the waitress, places it over his face for an unusually long time.
Me: Are you OK?
MM: No -- I've had a really rough week at work, etc.
Me: Maybe a drink will make you feel better -- let's order some sake.
As I look for the waitress, I can see that MM is still looking stressy.
Me: Do you want to just call it a night? (NEVER thinking that he would accept my offer, especially after I shlepped to midtown in the rain!)
MM: Yes -- right now I just want to be sitting naked on my couch, watching the baseball game with a beer, instead of looking at this shi-shi menu that I can't understand. (and yes, there was English translation next to the Japanese on the menu)
We leave, take the subway together -- chat a bit more, he's de-toxed a bit, actually seems like a decent guy. Still, I'm thinking, sure, let's get together -- NEVER is good for me, is never good for you???
He IMs me two days later, very apologetic about what happened. I asked how he was feeling -- he said he's actually feeling a bit depressed. The previous day was his birthday, and he said that as he's getting older, he's just not "functioning" the way he did when he was younger.
By this time, I was convinced that he was conducting an experiment for a magazine or talk show (where are the hidden cameras?) -- it would be titled, "HOW MUCH WILL WOMEN PUT UP WITH?". Out of curiosity, I agreed to go out with him again, though I warned him that I was doing so against my better judgement.
Our next date was shockingly good: dinner, movie, wine bar, lots of smooching on the street, another bar, more smooching on the street (it was a beautiful, mild October night), smooching in the corner of another bar, pretending that if we didn't look at other people, they couldn't see our blatant PDA. It didn't hurt that he was quite cute, and seemed to have an excellent body -- he'd run something like 8 marathons and was obsessive about training.
I continued dating other guys, but after a stream of bad dates (including the guy formerly known as Good Date Greg -- info to come), MM was looking pretty good. He was actually quite sweet and considerate -- constantly told me that I was hot, and really seemed to think that, even though I don't have quite the athlete's body that he has.
After a few weeks, we started sleeping together -- and not only did he have NO trouble functioning, he was actually quite big (but not too big), and the sex was really good. Fun.
Unfortunately – I didn't find him particularly sophisticated or cultured (despite having attended an Ivy League university). He felt like a bit of a blank slate at times. There were times when I felt that I was struggling for conversation. And yet – he was sweet. Being with him was easy. Too easy.
When either of us were out of town for work, he'd write the sweetest e-mails:
For Saturday, sure, that place you mentioned sounds like a fun place to eat..... whatever you want. As long as I get to see you and resume our little kissing session...... I'm all for the canoodling, snuggling, smooching, cuddling, holding, giggling, hugging, massaging, nibbling, necking, caressing, whispering and other assorted things.
to be continued...